I ?? FT MEADE 
O GenColl 

|^7657W 

biA WOMAN’S 
REVENGED 

BY LAW MUIR 


LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 


Chap. ¥_Z,2> Copyright No. . 
8helf.^X0.37V\f 


UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



r -0 A 

WOMAN’S 

REVENGE 


BY 

LAW MUIR 


✓ 


C\ 





THE 

Bbbcy press 

PUBLISHERS 
1 14 - 

FIFTH AVENUE 

£ondon NEW YORK montreal 



85348 


LilVjpary of ConqreM 

Two Copies Received 

DEC 7 1900 

Copyright entry 

L.CL Hs.3.3* 

SECOND COPY 

Delivered to 

OKOEK DIVISION 

DEC 22 1900 



Copyright, 1900, 
by 
THE 

Hbbe y press 

in 

the 

United States 
and 

Great Britain. 


All Rights Reserved. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER I. rA „, 

The Bride 7 

CHAPTER II. 

At Santa Barbara 16 

CHAPTER III. 

Heart to Heart 24 

CHAPTER IV. 

Temptation 35 

CHAPTER V. 

Mose Gans 46 

CHAPTER VI. 

Lost. ..«••.•••<...*•• ....... 55 

CHAPTER VII. 

The Ruin of Mose Gans 61 

CHAPTER VIII. 

The Murder 73 

CHAPTER IX. 

The Trial 78 

CHAPTER X. 

The Execution 85 



A WOMAN’S REVENGE. 


CHAPTEK I. 

THE BRIDE. 

Onxy thirty minutes and the train for Los 
Angeles would leave the depot at Oakland. 

The ladies of the party were becoming nervous 
as usual, and fretting lest the newly married 
couple should miss the train; but the gentlemen 
sat still, as there were one or two more toasts to 
propose — toasts to which nobody paid any par- 
ticular attention. 

At the head of the table sat the bride and bride- 
groom, he from time to time whispering in her 
ear words of affection which made her blush and 
cast her eyes down. Now and again he would 
drop his napkin, and stooping to recover it, would 
7 


A Woman’s Revenged 

toucH her hand with his lips. These kisses would 
drive the blood faster through her veins, and 
make her heart beat with some vague, nervous 
fear for which she could not account. 

To-day she had given herself to him for better 
or for worse; what would the future have in store 
for her? Storm or sunshine? Excitement or 
tranquillity? Indifference or love? Did she 
really love him? Did she really know what love 
was? She could not tell. He had courted her; 
her girl friends, more experienced than she, had 
advised her to accept him. 

He was a man in a fairly good position in life; 
he would make her happy and provide her with 
a home. 

She looked timidly at him — soon they would be 
alone, — their friends would escort them to the 
station and leave them, and then she would have 
no one but him. 

He was a strong, handsome looking man, and 
she remembered how the girls in the store where 
she had been employed had envied her his atten- 
tion. 


8 


The Bride. 

“It is time to leave/ 5 one of the gentlemen cried 
out. 

These words reminded her again that soon the^ 
would be alone. 

They had reached the station and entered the 
train, and having put their luggage in safety, 
they went out to shake hands with their friends 
and wish them good-bye. 

Much good advice was given her, and one of 
her friends, Miss Euth Green, whispered some- 
thing in her ear that caused the blood to mount to 
her face. 

Her husband noticing it, said, “Don’t spoil my 
little girl with your worldly wisdom, Miss Green /’ 
to which that lady merely replied with a shrug of 
her pretty shoulders. 

“All on board /’ a long drawn-out whistle, a last 
handshake, and away sped the south-bound train. 

It was half dark in the car; the lamps shed a 
faint light around, showing dimly the faces of the 
few passengers. 

Taking her hand in his own he said: “Winona, 


9 


A Woman’s Revenge. 


my darling, how do you feel after all that rush 
and excitement? Are yon tired?” 

She did not answer him; she only looked up 
and moved closer to him, the warm pressure of his 
hand assuring her of his love and devotion, and 
making her feel there was one person in the worl’d 
who really cared for her; one to whom she could 
turn in all her troubles. 

“Little one,” he said, “I see you are tired; you 
need rest.” 

She nodded her assent; the day had worn her 
out, and she longed to be alone for a little while. 

He guessed what was passing through her mind, 
and as the porter had just informed him that their 
stateroom was ready, he escorted her to it and 
begged her to make herself comfortable, and if 
she felt sleepy, to retire ; he would go to the smok- 
ing compartment and try to enjoy a cigar by him- 
self. 

When he had gone she stood looking round the 
apartment. There was the bridal bed — she sat 
down on it without even removing her Fedora 
hat, and jacket, leaning back on the pillow. 

to 


The Bride. 

She felt at that moment that she was but a 
child. 

Her parents had both died years ago, and she 
had been compelled to work among strangers till 
now. The work itself she had liked, and on the 
whole, the people had been kind to her, had even 
spoiled her a little when a girl; but as she grew 
up, she too had had her sorrowful experiences. 

Being a good-looking girl she had attracted more 
than the usual amount of attention from the 
sterner sex, attentions which sometimes had 
driven a flush of indignation into her face. 

She had often felt that her beauty was more 
a curse to her than a blessing, and r !ihose persecu- 
tions, she knew well enough, had U some extent 
influenced her into marriage. She liked Ralph 
Carlton; most women would. He had a good ap- 
pearance and refined manner, a^id to her he had 
been exceedingly kind. 

Notwithstanding this, she was afraid of him, 
afraid to be alone with him ; she couldn’t tell why, 
but she felt miserable. Oh! if she could only 
stop the train and fly to her; own little room ! 

U 


A Woman’s Revenge. 


All tKese thoughts ran through her mind; her 
brain was very active, but physically she felt worn 
out. All the excitement of the day, the talk and 
merry chatter of her friends, aided perhaps by the 
few drops of wine which had touched her lips, 
had produced a feeling of weariness. 

She threw off her hat, and without undressing, 
stretched herself on the bed, where after a while, 
kind sleep made her forget her doubts and fears. 

Meanwhile her husband had strolled down the 
Pullman car to the far end, and there in the smok- 
ing compartment, after dropping comfortably into 
one of the seats, he lighted a cigar. Blowing the 
smoke from it, he musingly looked back into his 
past life, and the retrospect was far from pleasant 
With to-day he had begun a new life; he had 
married, and he had married an innocent, virtuous 
woman; he wished he could have come to her as 
pure as she had to him. 

From his childhood he had looked upon mar- 
riage as one of the most sacred of human rites. 
He had been fortunate enough to possess good and 
virtuous parents, who had set their children a 

12 


The Bride. 


good example; and for years he had known noth- 
ing but good. It was only when he had emigrated 
into the West, down to the Pacific Coast, into 
San Francisco, that Paris in miniature, of Amer- 
ica, that he first learned what sin was. 

Everything was so free and easy-going, — men 
and women mixed without restriction. Married 
men went their own way, married women went 
theirs. It appeared to be an understood thing 
between many of these couples, that they were 
not to interfere with each other's pleasures. To 
the women, marriage seemed to be no more than 
a convenient cloak. *■ 

It had been Ralphs misfortune to fall into the 
hands of one of those female vampires; those 
women who hunt for the love of innocent youth, 
who try to rekindle their burnt-out passions at 
the flame of a youthful lover's affection, and after 
having tasted all his love can give them, ruth- 
lessly throw him aside and go off in pursuit of 
some new sensation, leaving behind nothing but 
ashes of bitter disappointment. Out of idealists 
and dreamers they make libertines and cynics. 
\Z 


A Woman’s Revenge. 


Such had been Ralph’s fate also, an experience 
which caused him to despise women; to use them 
merely as playthings; paying them back in their 
own coin, and thereby making good women suffer 
for the sins of the bad. 

Then he had met Winona. 

The true innocence that spoke out of her child- 
like eyes had won his heart. 

For a long time he had not dared to confess 
his love for her, but from the day he had first 
met her he had returned to views of life long for- 
gotten. The teaching of his dear parents had 
come back to him; he had fancied himself back 
again in his childhood, praying, with his little 
hands folded, at his mother’s knee. In those days 
there were no doubts of “Is there a God or not?” 

At this moment, he felt he could not be thank- 
ful enough that the darling girl whom he loved 
had accepted him, had shown so much trust in 
him, had made him again respect women and be- 
lieve in their purity. She should never regret 
it ; he would carry her in his arms ; he would make 
her life a path of roses. He knew that she could 
14 


The Bride. 


not love him yet. Did the poor little soul know 
what love was? He felt that she was afraid of 
him, that she feared his presence with an unde- 
finable dread. 

Here on this night he made a resolution to work 
for her love, to win her love by waiting, and only 
when her heart had awakened, and she had ripened 
into womanhood, would he clasp her in his arms. 

He threw away the cigar, which had gone out, 
and strolled back to the stateroom. There she 
was lying asleep in her full traveling dress; some 
of her fair hair had loosened itself and crept along 
the pillow; her little white hands were folded as 
in prayer over her gently heaving bosom. 

He stood there and watched his wife. How 
innocent, how sweet she looked ! Then he stepped 
up to her, and covering her with a traveling rug, 
he lifted her head into a more comfortable posi- 
tion. When his hands touched her, she sighed 
deeply ; he lightly kissed the little hand which wore 

♦ 

his ring, and softly closing the door behind him, 
returned to the smoking-room. 


15 


A Woman’s Revenge 


CHAPTER II. 

AT SANTA BARBARA. 

Santa Barbara the beautiful! Thou loveli- 
est spot on the Pacific Coast! Thou gem of 
Southern California! how I do love to dream of 
you, of your eternal summer, your balmy air, your 
dark blue heaven. 

Santa Barbara is a fashionable seaside resort, 
much frequented by tourists and by invalids, on 
account of its mild climate and clear, bracing at- 
mosphere. Its principal hotel, which is one of 
the largest and most luxurious on the Pacific 
Coast, only opens its doors in the autumn, when 
it is largely taken advantage of by people fleeing 
for shelter from the storms and blizzards so prev- 
alent in the East during the autumn and winter 
months. 

Ralph Carlton had been in Santa Barbara 
years ago. He had traveled through it with the 

\6 


At Santa Barbara. 


intention of leaving in a few days; but had pro- 
longed his stay to weeks, months, and then at last 
he reluctantly tore himself away, promising soon 
to return. His business had not permitted it, 
but now on his wedding tour he would see Santa 
Barbara again, and enjoy in the company of his 
young wife, a visit to all the places of which he 
had dreamed for years. 

They went by way of Los Angeles, where they 
alighted and spent a few hours viewing some of 
the principal objects of interest in that district, 
after which they resumed their journey. 

Beaching their destination in the afternoon, 
they drove up to the hotel. 

The proprietor was glad to see his guest of 
former days, and offered him his best apartments. 

Kalph engaged a suite of three rooms, and after 
the use of a little soap and water to refresh them- 
selves after their long journey, they went down to 
dinner. 

Later in the day they walked down to the beach, 
to inhale the balmy air and watch the rippling 
waves as they broke upon the sands. 

M 


A Woman’s Revenge. 

, Winona Ead lost Eer sEyness. She enjoyed her- 
self with the playfulness of a child, running close 
up to the waves, and retreating before them when 
they threatened to wet her shoes. 

Ralph, seated on one of the rocks, watched her 
enjoying herself. She looked very pretty in her 
close fitting, Russian blue jacket, her soft, blonde 
hair waving in the breeze beneath her black sailor 
hat. 

Then she came running up to him holding a 
small crab in her gloved hand. 

“See, Ralph,” she said, “what I have found; 
a live crab ! That is the first I have ever seen 
alive ; how funny it looks trying to bite me.” 

“So you are not afraid of it?” he answered. 
“Most girls would be, and especially as you have 
never seen a live one before.” 

“No, Ralph, I never was afraid of anything 
alive, but anything dead or wounded and bleeding, 
I am afraid of, and dread to touch.” 

The crab had crawled out of her hand, and was 
fast making for the water. She wanted to catch 


At Santa Barbara. 


if again, but Ralph taking hold of her arm, led 
her away with him further along the beach. 

They passed in silence the bathing-houses and 
the pavilion, past the great rock, and soon they 
reached a quiet spot away from the crowd. 

Then choosing a dry and comfortable place, 
he took off his overcoat and spread it on the sand 
for her, seating himself at her feet. 

They both gazed in silence over the broad 
Pacific Ocean, a mild breeze gently fanning their 
faces and making them feel supremely happy: 

“I could sit here for hours,” she said dreamily; 
“it is really beautiful. I am so thankful to you, 
Ralph, for bringing me to Santa Barbara. I have 
never traveled so far before. I have only known 
San Francisco and its vicinity. You know,” she 
added with a slight blush, “we shop girls can’t 
afford to travel m»ch.” 

Ralph was pleased to hear her talk and relate 
some episodes and reminiscences of her poor child- 
hood, wherein she had never known a mother’s 
love or a father’s care. But she had been for- 
tunate in finding good friends. 

\9 


A Woman’s Revenge. 

Not long before, she had been compelled to look 
out entirely for herself. She told him that about 
a year ago, Euth Green, who had lived in the same 
house with her, had attached herself to her, and 
taken her out and introduced her to some of her 
own friends, but again she blushed — this time 
deeply, — “I did not like her friends; they drank 
and smoked with the gentlemen when we were 
out, and I think they are altogether too free. 
What do you think? One of the gentlemen 
wanted, the first time I was out with him — only 
imagine — he wanted to kiss me, and as I resisted, 
he got angry and said I was a little fool ; that other 
girls would feel offended if he didn’t kiss them. 
Such are her friends. After that night I never 
went out with her any more, but I could not help 
meeting some of those people at her rooms.” 

She confessed that she had felt lonesome at 
times, and often she had closed her door tight, so 
as not to hear the merry laughter in Euth’s room, 
where some of the girls and young men were en- 
joying themselves, playing, eating tomales, and 
drinking beer or wine. The other girls had called 
20 


At Santa Barbara. 


her a silly fool, and tried to persuade her to give 
up such nonsensical prudery, as they called it, 
and be one of them. “There was no harm,” they 
said, “in a kiss or two.” 

Then he related to her the incident which had 
brought them together. 

One night at the Orpheum Theatre, her friend 
Buth Green had told him about her, mildly ridi- 
culing her innocence and simplicity, and jokingly 
telling him she would be sure to find favor in his 
moral eyes; and so they had met, and now they 
were here on the beach of Santa Barbara, husband 
and wife. 

All nature was hushed around them. The wind 
had ceased to blow; the only sound was the beat- 
ing of the waves on the white sand, each successive 
wave toiling higher and higher. Ever and anon 
the shrill cry of a sea gull would reach their ears, 
the bird soaring slowly over their heads and dis- 
appearing in the distance away across the sea. 
A mist was stealing in from the ocean. 
The valley became shrouded as with a cloak. Only 
on the spot where the setting sun touched the 
2 \ 


A Woman’s Revenge. 


water was seen a golden glow. He had taken 
her hands in his and looked up into her face. 
Her eyes shone brilliantly, and a smile of con- 
tentment played in the corners of her expressive 
mouth. 

Fool that he was! Why wasn’t he content to 
gaze on that picture? Why must he disturb her 
tranquillity by his coarse passion? 

He got up, and leaning over her, he pressed her 
in his arms and covered her face with passionate 
kisses — kisses which alarmed her and brought 
back that fear of him, which she had almost over- 
come. 

What brutes men are! Where were all his 
good resolutions of a night ago, that he should 
have allowed his wild passion, which he thought 
was conquered, dead, to break out again on so 
slight a provocation? 

He walked back with her in silence along the 
boulevard to the hotel. At the door he asked her 
to go up to her own room, and wished her good 
night. 

In a torrent of self-reproach he walked back 

22 


At Santa Barbara. 


along the boulevard to the seashore ; a strong wind 
was now blowing, striking pleasantly his burning 
temples. 

“A libertine, once, a libertine always.” Was 
there no salvation, no redemption from such a 
curse ? 

But he would conquer himself. What weak- 
lings, cowards, men were ! and he had always prided 
himself, too, on being so strong — stronger than 
the average man ! 

Yain mortal! he could not even conquer him- 
self. * 


23 


A Woman’s Revenge; 


CHAPTER III. ’ 

HEART TO HEART. 

Ralph and his wife had spent a week at Santa 
Barbara, when his business compelled him to, 
return to San Francisco. 

He had left it to his young wife to decide 
whether she would live at an hotel or go into house- 
keeping, and she had chosen the latter. 

He was glad she had done so, as he did not 
approve of married couples living in hotels. It 
might do for childless people, but parents with 
children were committing a crime by so doing. 

It is one of the peculiar social conditions of 
San Francisco, that there is hardly a city of its 
size in the United States which equals it in the 
number of married people living in hotels or in 
lodgings, and taking their meals outside. Who is 
to blame for this, the husband or the wife ? 

24 


Heart to Heart. 


Ralph had furnished a nice little house near 
the park, in Ellis Street. His young wife turned 
out to be a very clever housewife; she took to it 
naturally. She liked the work, and when her 
husband returned from his daily work, wasn’t she 
a thousand times repaid to see the pleased look of 
satisfaction come into his eyes, for the little work 
she had done? She would have everything ready 
for dinner, the table tastefully laid out and deco- 
rated with flowers from her own small garden. 
They would take their dinner in the cosy little 
dining-room, waiting on each other, no curious, 
prying eyes to overlook them; and after he had 
assisted her to remove the dishes, they would re- 
turn to the dining-room where a comfortable fire 
burned in the grate, lighting up the room just 
enough to let them see each other. 

He would sit down at the piano and play to her, 
teaching her to understand music; and it was a 
pleasure to him to notice that music which she 
had before thought unattractive and tiresome be- 
cause her untrained mind had not been able to 
appreciate its beauties, she now began to under- 
25 


A Woman’s Revenge. 

stand and listen to with delight. There they 
would talk — talk by the hour; he would enlighten 
her on many a subject she had never thought of 
before. 

She felt more and more what an ignorant little 
woman she was, and she wondered how a clever 
man like Kalph could have chosen her for his life 
companion. 

All her fears gradually left her. How kind 
he had been to her all this time ! 

When he returned from his daily work he would 
always bring something home, sometimes a trinket, 
sometimes a box of sweets, sometimes a little 
bunch of violets, her favorite flower, showing her 
that even in his business hours he was thinking 
of her. When bed time came he would kiss her 
on the forehead and wish her good night; then 
they would retire to their separate bedrooms. 
He had kept his word; a fierce battle had raged 
within him, but he had conquered himself and his 
passion. 

His wife was yet a child ; she seemed only slowly 
to ripen into womanhood. 

26 


Heart to Heart. 


At night in her own room, Winona found herself 
trying to solve a question which of late had con- 
stantly tortured her ; she found herself now blam- 
ing him for keeping away from her, for neglecting 
her, and only a few weeks ago she had feared his 
presence. 

Gradually an intense longing crept into her 
heart to be more in his company, to be always neai* 
him; some irresistible power drew her to him. 
She was his wife, he was her husband. Was this 
married life? 

Weeks ago she had feared even to be kissed 
by him, and now she hoped for something to hap- 
pen. She could bear it no longer; she was con- 
stantly wishing that he would come nearer to her, 
that he would touch her. Yes, even strike her — 
anything; to put an end to this present state of 
existence. 

One Saturday afternoon Ralph returned at one 
o’clock from his office, and asked her to take a 
car-ride with him to the Cliff House. 

They had mounted one of the cars running 
around by the harbor, and riding along they en- 
27 


A Woman’s Revenge. 


joyed for the hundredth time the unparalleled 
beauty of the Golden Gate. It was an ideal 
summer day, no gusty wind to mar the pleasure 
of being in the open air, to romp about the cliffs. 

They took the road to the right of the Cliff 
House, down along the side of the cliff to the 
ocean; it is a wild, romantic spot. They walked 
down the hill, gathering wild flowers as they 
went, and inhaling the strong, bracing sea breeze. 

Going down the steep slope she leaned on his 
strong arm, unconsciously pressing nearer to him 
and making Ealph’s heart beat faster. He asked 
himself if it was the dangerous road only, or her 
heart, which prompted her to cling so closely to 
him ; he looked down at her, into her uplifted eyes, 
which seemed to him to express tenderness, yes, 
even love. He took her hand, and holding it in 
his own, he admired its daintiness; “such hands 
belong to queens,” he said, pressing it gently. 

“Winona, my darling, I have often of late 
wished to ask you the question, are you happy ? 
Dc you ever regret having become my wife?” 


28 


Heart to Heart. 


“No, Ralph; I am happy, more happy to-day 
than I ever was in my life.” 

Her soft voice trembled and she closed her lips 
tightly to suppress a sigh of extreme happiness. 

“Why should I regret being your wife? I did 
not know anything of life, I was an ignorant girl, 
and you have taught me so much ; for all of which 
I am more than thankful to you.” 

“Winona, don’t you know that you hurt me? 
Thankfulness ! Bah ! It is something else I 
would like to know that you feel for me.” 

He tried again to look into her eyes, but she 
had lowered them to the ground, so he could not 
see the deep blush which crept into her face. 

Strolling leisurely along they came to a little 
hollow in the rocks; he jumped into it, leaving 
her standing at the edge. He looked up into her 
face; for a moment their eyes met, and both read 
the same question in each other’s look; then he 
stretched out his arms towards her — “Dare you 
ccme to me, Winona?” 

She closed her eyes, and without a single word, 
let herself fall into his outstretched arms. 

29 


A Woman’s Revenge. 

He caught her, and clasping hor tightly to his 
breast, he carried her to the beach, letting her 
softly down on the sand, and then, their hearts 
beating wildly, he kissed her longing, upturned 
mouth — kissed it a dozen times — till she sighed 
in sweet pain. 

To-day for the first time they fully realized 
that they were husband and wife; the last few 
weeks had only been a dream. 

They drove back to town and dined at Zin- 
kand’s; he said they would have their wedding 
dinner over again to-day. 

How delightful it was to sit with her in the 
little box, to look into her eyes, so full of awakened 
love and tenderness. How and again he would 
take both her little hands in his own and press 
them, kissing every finger separately, up to the 
slender wrist. He coaxed her to dip her lips 
into the iced champagne, that they might pledge 
anew their mutual health and happiness. 

Having finished their dinner, he walked over 
to her side to pluck his dessert from her rosy lips, 
and those lips seemed to have waited only for a 
30 


Heart to Heart. 


touch of his own. Oh! what eternal joy there 
h in such a kiss! 

They left the restaurant and walked across 
Market Street towards Ellis Street, to take the 
car for home. While they were waiting for it 
a business friend of Ralph’s walked up to him 
and expressed a wish to see him on urgent busi- 
ness, so he helped his young wife into the car, send- 
ing her home alone and promising to follow her 
in half an hour. One last look into her eyes, one 
last hand pressure, and then he turned and went 
oif with his business friend. 

When she reached home she lighted all the 
lamps, and kindled the fire, so that her husband 
would find it cosy and warm on his return. Then 
she went to her own room, and after taking off her 
walking dress, she picked out the prettiest evening 
gown she possessed and put it on. When she 
had loosened her hair and stood before the mirror, 
the picture that reflected itself was beautiful. 

For the first time she really was glad to be 
handsome, glad for his sake; her bare, snow- 


3f 


A Woman’s Revenge. 


white shoulders showed up wonderfully the luster 
of her sparkling eyes and golden hair. 

Having finished her toilet, she returned to the 
drawing-room; there she waited for him. She 
sat down at the piano and let her fingers glide 
over the keys, thinking of her husband, who was 
such a master of the instrument. .Then she took 
up a book and tried to read it, but she could not 
concentrate her mind on anything. 

It grew later and later. “Oh, that tiresome 
business ! Why must that man take my husband 
away from me to-day of all days? What in the 
world can be keeping him so long?” An unde- 
fined fear crept into her heart. “I hope nothing 
has happened to him — there, I hear voices — he 
must be coming.” 

She rushes up to the window. “Ho, it is not 
Balph. Strangers passed the house.” 

As time goes on, she grows more and more 
nervous ; she imagines hundreds of dreadful things 
that may have happened to him. She finds her- 
self dressing; she will go out and hunt for him, 


32 


Heart to Heart. 


— and then — perhaps he might return and not 
find her in. Her heart aches ; the tears run down 
her cheeks; she grows faint; she has to sit down. 
And there she sits and broods; she cannot even 
weep. 

Her head falls on her hands, and she dozes, 
half-sleeping, half-listening to any sound, how- 
ever slight it may he. 

Then the bell rings. She jumps up. “Thank 
God, he is coming.” She forgets that he has a 
latchkey and never rings the bell. She rushes up 
to the door and then — they lift into the hall a 
stretcher covered with a white sheet. 

“Almighty God ! is he dead ?” is all she can gasp 
out. A man runs to her support, as she threatens 
to faint, but, with a supernatural effort she re- 
covers her strength, and declines his assistance. 

“Tell me, oh, tell me, is he dead?” she in- 
quires eagerly. 

“Ho,” the man replies ; “he is seriously injured, 
but he may recover.” 

“Then he lives! Thank God, he lives!” 


33 


A Woman’s Revenge. 

She kneels down beside the stretcher. With' 
a trembling hand she pulls the cover away; she 
looks into that dear face of his, and half-weeping, 
half-langhing, she buries her face in her hands. 


34 


Temptation. 


CHAPTER IV. 

TEMPTATION". 

“Doctor, please give me your candid opinion 
about my husband’s condition; the sooner I know 
the worst, the better it will be for me.” 

Dr. Harrison was an old gentleman, who during 
a long lifetime’s experience in his profession had 
been familiar with pain and suffering in all its 
phases. He looked with pity at the pale and 
anxious face of the poor young wife, and never 
had his duty seemed to him so cruel as now. 

“My child,” he said, “at present I have little 
hope of his recovery, I am sorry to say. He 
will most likely grow weaker and weaker, and in 
time, I fear, become completely paralyzed; but I 
shall do all I can for him. His only chance of 
recovery is in careful nursing and entire freedom 
from excitement. But now, my dear Mrs. Carl- 
ton, let me advise you to take care of yourself; 
35 


A Woman’s Revenge. 


you must take some rest, or you will make your- 
self ill, and who will look after your husband 
then?” 

“Oh, doctor, how can I sleep or rest, knowing 
him to be in pain, or wanting me ?” 

“Let me warn you once more, my child. He 
does not suffer any physical pain at present, so go 
and lie down for awhile; later in the day I shall 
call again. Take care of yourself. Good-bye 
for the present.” 

r And so the doctor left her alone, alone with 
her grief and sorrow. 

The men who had brought him home had told 
her that an electric car had knocked him ove£ 
and injured his spine. 

She could not understand his condition. To 
all appearance he was well, only very weak; so 
weak that he could not even talk. He had tried 
hard in the morning to speak to her, but only 
inarticulate sounds had escaped his lips; his poor 
eyes — she could see him talk with them, she could 
understand their looks. What deep love and 
sorrow were expressed in them ! 

36 


Temptation. 

“Great God! if he should forever remain so, 
what torture it will be for him.” 

She returned to his bedside. At present he 
seemed to rest easily; his face had lost the lines 
oi pain and grief, and his features looked quite 
natural. 

The doctor had told her that he did not suffer 
any pain. . 

She sat down near him in an armchair. What 
a contrast between yesterday and to-day ! Every- 
thing seemed so bright and joyful only twelve short 
hours ago, and now her joy had been turned into 
deep grief, and what had appeared to her a future 
of unalloyed happiness, presented nothing but 
sadness. Of one thing she was glad; she knew 
they loved each other, come what would. 

Slowly her head fell backward, and the much- 
needed sleep closed her eyelids. 

Ralph woke up and looked about him. There 
was his darling wife, sitting, nay asleep; let her 
sleep on, poor soul. What a terrible fate was hers ! 
hardly a woman yet, and the wife of a useless 
invalid ! 


37 


A Woman’s Revenge. * 

But He would recover; if only; for her sake, 
he must get his strength back. It would take 
only a few days, a week or two at the longest, and 
he would be up again. How pale and worried 
she looked; if he could only talk to her and com- 
fort her, a few words even. Again he tried to 
speak, hut in vain; no sound escaped his lips. 
It seems to him as if his tongue had swollen so 
that it fills his whole mouth. He tries his arms, 
but they too are numb ; he cannot even move them. 
How will he be able to tell his wife about his busi- 
ness affairs? How will he be able to tell her of 
that sum of money which he has lying in his secret 
drawer? He tortures his brain, he hunts for a 
single way out of this calamity; impossible, no 
way out of it. His heart is full of grief, and in 
his anguish and despair the tears start slowly and 
run down his cheeks. 

Winona opens her eyes. Oh, God ! she has been 
sleeping, she has neglected him; and when she 
sees he is weeping (there is no more heart-rend- 
ing sight than to see a strong man weep), she 
rushes up to him, kneels down beside him, takes 
38 


Temptation. 

his head between her hands and tries to kiss the 
tears away. 

“Oh, Kalph, don’t cry, my darling ; please don’t. 
I cannot bear to see you cry; it will break my 
heart. Oh, Kalph, dear, don’t cry.” 

She had overestimated her strength; the de- 
spairing look in her husband’s eyes made her fran- 
tic. She laid her head near his on the pillow 
and broke out in a fit of hysterical weeping; and 
there they lay, head on head, mingling their tears 
in their mutual despair. 

Days, weeks, months went by. No change. He 
could not move, he could not speak; all he could 
do was to listen and look at her, and his eyes had 
so sad an expression that she was afraid to look 
at them; they drove the tears into her own. 

The doctor and some of her acquaintances per- 
suaded her to sue the Electric Street Car, Com- 
pany, for damages. 

At first she refused to do so, but they talked 
her into it. 

What a farce it had been! The railroad com- 
pany, by means best known to themselves, had 

39 


A Woman’s Revenge. 


won; the all-absorbing vampire bad triumphed 
as it had so often done before, and the rest of the 
few dollars Winona possessed had gone to pay the 
court expenses. 

To keep up her little home she had been com- 
pelled to look for a situation, so she went out and 
worked; but soon she had to give that up. 

Winona Carlton was too handsome a woman 
not to attract attention. 

Men can never see a woman alone and unpro- 
tected, without offering her their protection 
whether it is wanted or not ; and besides that, she 
always feared something might happen at home 
in her absence. How terrible it would be if the 
house caught fire, and her helpless husband were 
smothered by the smoke or flames. But she must 
manage somehow to support herself and him, so 
she took to millinery work at home; but that 
proved insufficient. A neighbor of hers rented 
some of her rooms out, getting a good price for 
them; so she decided to do the same. 

She could sleep in her husband’s room on a 


40 


Temptation. 

couch, and rent out her own bedroom and the 
drawing-room. 

When her simple card, “Furnished Eooms to 
Let,” had been out for over a week, a gentleman 
called; he looked at the rooms she showed him, 
then looked at her, and engaged them. 

He was a Jew; he was tall, and, for a Jew, 
handsome looking, with very dark, fierce eyes. 
His appearance did not awaken in her any con- 
fidence, but she had no choice — “Beggars must not 
be choosers” — and as he paid her a whole month’s 
rent in advance, she let him have the rooms. 

Among others, Ruth Green had been to see her 
md tried to take her out, “Only for a little change,” 
she said. “She must grow tired and stupid, re- 
maining always near that sick husband of hers.” 

Ruth told her she had met some nice, in- 
fluential gentleman ; she had given up those young 
associates of hers; now she only kept company 
with moneyed men. “Ho more wasting time.” 

She told her she would introduce her to them, 
and there was no doubt that if she told them all 
her circumstances, they would be only too glad to 
4f 


A Woman’s Revenge. 

assist her. Her dearest friend at present was a 
colonel. Whenever she mentioned him she showed 
a diamond brooch and various other tokens of 
affection he had presented her with. 

“Now, Winona, don’t be foolish; just come out 
once. We will go to the theater and afterwards 
to Delmonico’s for a quiet, innocent little supper ; 
there will only be my colonel, his friend, the 
millionaire, Mr. Goldie, and you and I.” But all 
her entreaties were unheeded, Winona would al- 
ways refuse. 

Those “innocent little suppers”! How well 
Buth Green knew them ! 

A nice little cabinet apart on the third floor, 
covers laid for four. There she and one of her 
chums would meet those two middle-aged, pros- 
perous gentlemen, both of them gourmands in 
victuals, wine and women. Champagne would 
flow, money would count for nothing so long as 
there were more estates to plunder (the colonel 
was a lawyer) . Slowly but surely the champagne 
would do its work. In time all four might be 
seen leaning with’ their elbows on the table, star- 
42 


Temptation. 


ing at each other with glassy eyes, and laughing 
over some imbecile joke, and then benedictine and 
brandy would do the rest. “Enjoy yourselves to- 
day, to-morrow you will be a long time dead/’ 
And they did enjoy themselves — at least they 
imagined they did. They stopped at nothing; 
why should they ? hadn’t they the money ? Money 
buys everything; everything has its price, men’s 
honor and women’s love, and, as connoisseurs 
say, “There is no price too high to pay for the 
favor of a pretty woman.” 

Next morning the ladies of the company would 
put on just a little more rouge, blacken their eye- 
brows and lashes just a little more, and return to 
their pretence of daily work. 

Such were the “innocent little suppers” of Miss 
Green. 

All those temptations Winona withstood 
bravely, working her little hands sore, nursing 
her poor, sick husband, never for a moment en- 
vying her friends their enjoyment; only praying 
to God to make her Ealph strong and well 
again. 


43 


A Woman’s Revenge. 


Ruth Green tried two or three times more to 
induce Winona to accompany her. Her million- 
aire friend had expressed a desire for something 
new and fresh; all her old chums were too well 
known to him, and she thought Winona would 
just suit him. She begged her to do it just for 
her sake, to keep her on good terms with those 
influential friends of hers; she would see that no 
harm came to her. 

Winona firmly refused, so Ruth Green left her, 
disgusted and angry, calling her in her heart an 
ungrateful minx. Winona’s chaste way of living 
was somewhat of a thorn in her side. “Did that 
silly thing imagine herself better than she ?” Ruth 
Green had been a good-looking girl before she had 
started on her present way of living. How she 
was handsome — a dangerously handsome woman; 
her form had developed to perfection, and she was 
like a wild tigress, full of life, thirsting for the 
wildest excitement. Such a life seems to agree 
with a woman for a time. She usually grows 
prettier; she is like a hothouse plant. What a 
pity it does not last ! And then to hide those pale 
44 


Temptation. 


cheeks, and those little dark lines creeping ronnd 
the eyes, it is necessary to take refuge in powder 
and rouge. 

In a few years the face becomes cadaverous, 
the eyes shine unnaturally bright; in time they 
too grow dimmer and dimmer, and then there 
comes the remorse, the terrible remorse, over lost 
youth and wasted womanhood. Then she stretches 
her arms out longingly for a true and sincere 
friend. There is not one; they all have left her. 


45 


A Woman’s Revenge, 


CHAPTER Y. 

MOSE GAN'S. 

Mose Gan'S, Winona’s lodger, was a retired 
stockbroker, a man forty-three years of age. He 
had never married, preferring to live an inde- 
pendent life of unrestricted freedom and variety. 
He was rich; he had far more money than he re- 
quired, so he had played the protector of many a 
struggling actress and singer. 

One afternoon while walking along Market 
Street, he happened to see Winona Carlton hurry- 
ing homeward; he was at once struck with the 
charm of her appearance, and turned to follow her 
at a respectful distance. 

Taking note of the number and name of the 
street, he returned the following day, and noticing 
the sign, “Furnished Rooms to Let,” he entered 
the house on the pretence that he was looking for 
rooms. 

46 


Mose Gans. 


He had lived till then at one of the fashionable 
hotels, but Winona’s beauty induced him to take 
these rooms. For a long time he had not seen 
such a handsome young woman; but it was only 
on rare occasions that he got a glimpse of her. 
She never came near him except when he forced 
his presence on her. He had usually been fairly 
successful with women, and he could not under- 
stand why this woman kept entirely out of his 
way. He was quite at a loss to know how to ap- 
proach her, how to win her confidence. 

He planned all sorts of ways to get acquainted 
with her, to break down the barrier which kept 
her aloof from him. 

Strolling along the grand stand at Ingleside 
one race day, he saw Euth Green sitting sur- 
rounded by a group of young bon-vivants, like a 
reigning queen. She had of late become quite 
fashionable. 

He knew most of the gay jolies femmes of San 
Francisco, and he was known to be quite a lucky 
tipster. 


47 


A Woman’s Revenge. 


Ruth, seeing him, sang out: “Mose, whom are 
you favoring? Give me a tip.” 

“My dear girl,” he replied, “you are nearer to 
the oracle than I am,” — meaning her millionaire 
friend. Nevertheless he walked up to her, and 
leaning over the back of her chair, entered into 
conversation with her. 

It was ladies’ day at Ingleside ; that means free 
admission for the fair sex. What a compliment 
to the ladies ! What unselfish magnanimity on 
the part of the management! But what a fear- 
ful temptation to the women, bringing often in its 
train grief, dishonor and ruin, to many a family. 

Ruth Green and Mose Gans watched the kalei- 
doscope of human emotions for a while in silence. 
Then — “Where have you kept yourself lately, 
Mose? I haven’t seen you about at all. Some 
new infatuation ? What ! you sigh ! Is it as had 
as that? Poor Mose, I pity you.” 

“Ruth, she is the handsomest woman in all 
’Frisco; after you,” with a bow to Ruth. “Such 
a Diana-like figure; such exquisite eyes; such a 
sad expression in them and in her small mouth. 
48 


Mose Gans. 


How is it tKat sad looking women always attract 
me most? They must appeal to my heart, I 
think, making me long to comfort them, to make 
them smile. They look so innocent; as if they 
never knew what sin was.” 

“Mose, you are getting sentimental; better tell 
me who she is; some newly discovered opera star 
or ballerina?” 

“Nothing of the kind, — my new landlady.” 

“Bah ! how prosaic ; but what is her name ?” 

“Winona Carlton.” 

“What! Winona Carlton, in Ellis Street? 
Impossible !” 

“Why should it be impossible? She had rooms 
to let, I walked in, saw the rooms, saw her, en- 
gaged the rooms, and have lived there now for 
over a week. Can you blame me ?” 

“No, Mose; but give this game up, old boy; it 
is as good as lost ; take my advice. I have known 
Winona for years. Do you know she is married? 
Married to a paralyzed invalid?” 

“No, I did not know that; but what of it? It 
only makes things easier, and safer,” 

49 


A Woman’s Revenge. 

“There you are right, Mose. Now I wish you 
luck. There is not much love lost between 
Winona and me nowadays.” 

“The horses are at the post; bye-bye,” — and he 
walked off. 

From that day he began the siege in earnest; 
he believed in perseverance — “The continual 
dropping of water will wear through a stone” — 
so he kept on and on. He at first made use of 
Ruth Green’s name to break the ice; then by and 
by he had offered, and in fact had helped her in 
many ways. Money had never counted for much 
with him as long as he saw a chance of being paid 
back some day. He had been accustomed to pay 
for everything he had ever got. 

Slowly he won her confidence; his burning, 
lascivious eyes at first disturbed her, but she gradu- 
ally overcame that feeling, and began to think that 
she had wronged him. 

He was so kind to her; her pecuniary condition 
improved ; he had always something for her to do, 
some trifling little commission for himself or his 
friends. She became quite used to look for as- 

50 


Mose Gans. 


sistance from him. Whenever she needed some 
money she would borrow it from him ; just borrow 
it. 

He would often present her with tickets for the 
matinee. She would not go out at night, but her 
neighbor and she would take advantage, for a few 
hours on Saturday afternoon, of his kindness. 

One day she had come to him again to ask some 
little favor, which he instantly granted, and then 
coming nearer to her, he clasped her in his arms 
and tried to kiss her. 

She had felt at first quite stunned, unable to re- 
sist, to move. Then pushing him from her, she 
had fled from the room, dropping the money on 
the floor. 

She fled direct to her husband’s bedside; there 
he lay, her poor, helpless husband, all the protec- 
tion she had. His eyes seemed to question her, 
— Why was she so red? why did her bosom heave 
so fiercely? 

She took his hand in hers to find comfort and 
tc soothe her nerves, which seemed to be all un- 

5i 


A Woman’s Revenge. 


strung; but her heart continued for a long time 
to beat as violently as before. 

From that day her heart seemed changed. All 
its usual tranquillity had gone from it ; the sound 
of her lodger’s footsteps alone would cause it to 
beat faster. 

She had not seen him for days after that cir- 
cumstance; he purposely kept away from her, till 
one day she accidentally met him in the hall. He 
begged her pardon, accused himself in the cruelest 
words for his ungentlemanly behavior, called him- 
self a brute, — and, finally invited her to go out 
with him for a drive, just to show that she did not 
bear any ill-will towards him — that she had fully 
pardoned him. 

What should she do? He seemed so genuinely 
repentant; perhaps it had been to some extent 
her own fault. 

“Very well,” she said, “I will take a drive with 
you this afternoon, and we will be the good friends 
we have been.” 

Confidingly she extended her hand and they 
shook hands, 


52 


Mose Gans. 


A team of trotters drove up to one of the 
establishments along the beach ; the couple alighted 
and walked up to a private room, leaving the 
horses in charge of the groom. They had been 
driving fast, and the fresh breeze off the water 
had made her feel rather cold, so her escort in- 
vited her to take some hot drink to warm herself 
up. 

She had enjoyed the drive immensely. Mose 
had let her handle the reins along the beach; she 
had never driven fast horses before, and did not 
know what a pleasurable excitement it was. 

The room they occupied was warmed by a 
good fire, so she took her jacket off, displaying 
her supple form in a very becoming light silk 
shirt-waist. 

Sitting in an easy-chair, a sweet hot drink be- 
fore her, she felt really comfortable, and grate- 
ful to her escort for giving her all that pleasure. 
She sipped the hot punch, and gradually the liquor 
loosened her tongue, and she began to chat away, 
telling him her whole life, exchanging confi- 
dences. 


53 


A Woman’s Revenge. 


"And thus,” she said, “we have been living.” 

“But, my dear, do you expect to live always 
so?” 

Her eyes assumed a sadder expression. 

“It is all I can expect now; the doctor says 
there is some faint hope of my husband’s recovery, 
and if he should recover — “Oh! it would be too 
great a happiness.” 

He did not care that she should talk of her 
husband; she should forget him — for a while, at 
any rate — so he ordered some more drinks. 

A woman who is not accustomed to take liquor 
never knows what its effects will be till it becomes 
too strong for her. Her escort coaxed her to take 
just one more drink — positively the last. 

The liquor drove the hot blood into her face; 
i'; coursed madly through her veins; a delicious 
feeling of languor crept over her, — all her sorrows 
seemed slowly, gradually to disappear, the world 
seemed so light, so rosy. 

He had watched her all the time, knowing verv 
well what he was doing. 

How his time had come; he had triumphed; one 
more bird caught. 


54 


Lost. 


CHAPTEK VI. 


Winona rose from her writing-desk. She had 
just finished a letter to Mose Gans. 

“Sir: — After what happened yesterday I must 
ask you to leave this house at once. If you will 
not go, I shall be compelled to do so, taking him 
with me. I shall wait till one o’clock, and if you 
have not left by that time, I shall.” 

She walked up to his room and slipped the 
letter under the door. Just as she was doing 
so, the door opened and he stood before her, a 
satirical smile playing on his lips. 

“Un billet d* amour?” Conceited ass that he 
was. The woman did not understand what he 
had said. As he was looking down at her, all 
her determination seemed to leave her; she trem- 
55 


A Woman’s Revenge. 

bled like a rabbit before a snake, unable to utter 
a word. 

He waited for a few seconds, then pulling her 
into his room he shut the door. Taking up the 
letter he opened it — Winona had turned her back 
on him, — and read it, then tearing it in pieces, 
he threw it into the grate. 

“Little fool!” approaching her — she shrank 
from him into the furthest corner of the room — 
“Why, you little fool, did you write me this? 
What has happened, has happened; no use crying 
over it.” Trying to embrace her, “You are mine, 
and now when I have won you I shall never give 
you up.” 

“Won me! Ha! ha!” — she had recovered her 
speech, — “Won me! You liar, liar, liar! Won 
me ! I despise you, hate you, you robber, thief, — 
yes, thief. Oh! you needn’t frown.” 

Losing more and more control of herself, she 
walked close up to him, shaking excitedly her 
clenched hand in his face. 

She actually frightened him; he changed color. 
The coward, he was afraid for his face. She, 
56 


Lost. 


noticing it, stopped short and wrung her hands in 
despair. 

“Oh, God!” she exclaimed, “what have I done 
that you should punish me so much as to let me 
fall into the hands of such a man? Man is too 
noble a name for such a monster.” 

He tried to pacify her. 

“Don’t touch me; keep your hands off me, you 
miserable coward! Oh! if you only knew how I 
loathe you.” 

She had fallen down on the couch, pressing 
her hands before her eyes and breaking out into 
hysterical weeping. 

He let her sob herself out. It was nothing new 
to him; he had seen such sights before, only this 
woman really frightened him. But now, as she 
had grown quieter, he approached her again. 

Seating himself near her he tried to calm her. 
“Don’t cry, Winona dear ; I will be your everlasting 
friend — all I possess shall be yours. Winona, you 
are too handsome a woman to waste your sweet- 
ness unseen, unloved, and I admire you. I love 
you more than any woman I ever met. .Come, 
57 


A Woman’s Revenge. 


dry your tears. Be mine, and you will never re- 
gret it. I will make you envied by every womaa 
in this town. You shall have all the diamonds 
you can dream of to match your brilliant eyes.” 

She had stopped crying, and watching him she 
listened impatiently to his entreaties. Oh! how 
she hated him! She could have strangled him — 
killed him then and there. How she wished she 
could revenge herself — her and all those other 
women — on this vile, unscrupulous blackguard. 
Revenge was all that was left to her, and, by 
Heaven ! she would be revenged. 

She became Mose Gans* mistress. 

They left the house in Ellis Street, he having 
furnished for her a magnificent villa, suggesting 
at the same time to take her husband to the hos- 
pital; he would engage a special room for him 
and pay all expenses. But that she positively re- 
fused to do; she would not part from her hus- 
band. 

In the new house Ralph received the best room, 
and she would, as of old, attend to him herself. 

58 


Lost. 


She would hardly allow anybody else to touch him. 
Mose Gans had never seen the invalid. 

When she was out with her lover, magnificently 
dressed and loaded with diamonds, driving be- 
hind blood horses, she was the gay, frivolous 
woman of fashion, eager in the pursuit of pleasure. 
Her extravagance knew no hounds; dragging her 
lover behind her in a whirlpool of excitement 
which dazed and alarmed him. Once he had tried 
to remonstrate with her, but the look of scorn 
and contempt with which she regarded him 
silenced him for good. He knew that he was 
envied by many a Croesus the possession of his 
queenly mistress, and that if he didn’t supply all 
her wants, somebody else would. 

She had completely enslaved him, and he who, 
before he met her, thought he had had quite 
enough of women, felt that he could not live with- 
out her. 

He had been compelled to sell property and 
mining shares to keep up the pace; he even re- 
turned to the Stock Exchange to try to increase 
his income by speculation. 

59 


A Woman’s Revenge, 


Winona, when alone with her husband, was a 
different woman. She always wore the same old 
dresses she had worn before her heart had known 
all those wild emotions and crimes. A mother 
could not have been more tender with her sick 
child than she was with him. All seemed the 
same; Ealph would smile at her with his eyes, 
lying there and watching her movements about 
the room. But, oh, God! Why did she cry so 
often of late ? Why did she not kiss his lips now 
as she used to do? Why did she kneel beside 
him, sobbing and covering his hands with kisses ? 


60 


The Ruin of Mose Gans. 


CHAPTER VII. 

THE RUIN OF MOSE GANS. 

A 1 year passed away and it seemed as if Ralph 
were slowly recovering. 

Winona had sent for a New York celebrity to 
consult him about her husband’s condition. The 
great man had crossed the continent especially to 
see the poor paralyzed man. His visit had cost a 
small fortune; but all he did, or could do, was to 
corroborate Dr. Harrison’s opinion of the case, 
giving exactly the same advice : “Perfect quietness, 
and no excitement under any circumstances; time 
might do the rest, but human help was entirely 
out of the question.” 

For some little time back the invalid had shown 
signs of improvement. His fingers had begun to 
move; all day long his wife had seen him trying 
to shut and open them. She had given him a 
pencil, as he seemed with his eyes to beg for 
6\ 


A Woman’s Revenge. 

it; but He could not hold it — his fingers were not 
yet strong enough — and it had slipped out of his 
hand, bringing tears of disappointment into his 
eyes. 

Winona would watch these improvements with 
an anxious heart. How she wished that she could 
give her life to save this man; he was her idol, 
her king. Why should she be strong and well, 
and this once strong and noble man be so cruelly 
tortured? Could there be any justice in this? 
She began to doubt the very existence of the Deity. 
If there was a God, why did he send prosperity 
and health to such a creature as Mose Gans ? 

That man had become utterly unbearable to her. 
His presence alone was sickening, but his caresses 
were loathsome; the moment he came near her, 
her heart seemed to stop beating — she positively 
shivered as with cold. Her treatment of him 
grew more and more cold and cruel, she spurning 
him away from her like a dog. Notwithstand- 
ing all this, he would return, his face distorted 
by a silly grin, and beg her to drive out with him 
to theaters, to suppers. 


62 


The Ruin of Mose Gans. 


Gradually she had begun to drink. At first 
only a little glass of brandy, then more and more, 
until now she had to dose herself with absinthe; 
and only when the poison had worked in her brain 
and made her more like a beast than a human be- 
ing, did she tolerate his caresses. 

To-night again she had to dress and look gay 
and bright, but she felt so tired. She had grown 
disgusted with life, and were it not for her hus- 
band’s sake, she would make an end of it all. 

To-night Mose and she were to be guests of 
Mr. Goldie. He was to give a great feast to his 
boon companions ; “In your honor, my queen,” he 
had whispered into her ear a week ago at the 
Columbia Theater, where he had met Mose and 
her. The millionaire seemed to have only eyes 
now for that sad-looking, bewitching creature, 
Winona Carlton. 

And why should he not possess her? Wasn’t 
he richer, far richer than that Jew? It was 
rumored on the Stock Exchange that the Jew was 
on his last legs; in fact, he himself had helped 


63 


A Woman’s Revenge. 

to give Mose Gans a slight push on the downward 
path, to hasten his disappearance from the scene. 

Mr. Goldie’s elegant little mansion — one he 
used for small parties of this kind, — was brilliantly- 
lighted up. Negro servants glided along the 
various apartments, giving the finishing touches 
for the reception of the guests. 

At half-past nine the carriages and hacks came 
rolling along the avenue, and soon all the guests 
had arrived. 

The men of the company were mostly successful 
business men; the women their mistresses. Con- 
spicuous among even this set of beautiful women 
was Winona, who eclipsed them all by her beauty 
and queenly bearing. 

As soon as she stepped into the drawing-room, 
attired in a close-fitting, red silk gown, her 
brilliant eyes rivaling the luster of her diamonds, 
many a woman felt a pang of jealousy creep to 
her heart, a fear lest she should lose her master. 

How foolish they were! That woman hardly 
thought of her surroundings; her thoughts were 
far away, her body alone was there. 

64 


The Ruin of Mose Gans. 


There was some dancing, but Winona would not 
indulge in it. She preferred to sit in a little 
alcove watching the crowd. 

Euth Green came over to her, and after affec- 
tionately kissing her dear rival, dropped into an 
easy-chair near her. 

When Ruth Green had found out about Mose 
Gans and Winona, she had felt a malicious glow 
of satisfaction, and shrugged her shoulders in 
pitying contempt. “Who could have imagined 
such a thing about the proud Winona? Who 
would have thought that that shy, innocent girl 
would carry on a flirtation with her lodger? 
‘Still waters run deep/ ” 

Euth Green was to-night in high spirits. She 
had landed another gold-fish. Leaning com- 
fortably back in her chair, balancing one leg over 
the other, she passed in review all the people she 
knew, allowing her sarcasm freely to play on 
them. 

“There, Winona, look at that little, bow-legged 
fellow puffing himself up like a rooster; do you 
know who he is? No! you don't? Well, he is 

65 


A Woman’s Revenge. 

Mr. Short, political boss. Only see how his even- 
ing coat fits him, tight as a strait-waistcoat; he 
would be more like himself if he took it off and 
stood in his shirt sleeves, as he used to do years 
ago behind the bar, before he decided to become 
a star in the political firmament. Only look how 
he tries to make an impression on us, ogling with 
his ferret eyes, the ugly little brute. 

“And there, look at Mr. Long, with his big ears 
and hands, not knowing what to do with his 
limbs. Have you seen his celebrated art 
gallery? No ! a pity you haven’t; it is a wonder; 
full of Meissoniers, Maquarts and Murillos; and 
do you know how he collected them ? No ! — only 
a few years ago he came down from Arizona, or 
God knows what other wild country, a rough, un- 
couth looking miner. Selling his claims, he made 
millions, and now he is trying hard to become a 
gentleman. When building his great mansion he 
employed a decorative agent to help him to make 
it a residence worthy of his financial and social 
position. The agent he employed robbed him of 
thousands, by his gallery of foreign artists. No- 
66 


The Ruin of Mose Gans. 


body knows where he dug them out, but as they 
look quite worn and dirty, Mr. Long swears to 
their being old masters, and never lets an oppor- 
tunity slip to show his friends his ‘Macs and 
Gorillas. Confound those foreign names ! I 
never can spell ’em, but you bet, the pictures are 
all right.’ 

“Next, he boasts of a library of 50,000 volumes. 
When his agent came to him enquiring what kind 
of books he wished him to supply, he said, ‘Oh, 
just the usual kind a gentleman of my standing 
would have.’ 

“ ‘How would you like them bound ? In Russia 
or Morocco?’ 

“ ‘Darn Russia and Morocco ! Get them bound 
here in ’Frisco.’” 

And so Ruth Green chattered away till a game 
of poker was started, and as the host came up to 
talk to Winona, Ruth walked over to the tables. 

Mr. Goldie escorted Winona to one of the ad- 
joining rooms, away from the rest of the com- 
pany, for a quiet chat ; there she sat down, he stand- 
ing before her. He had led her to this place, 
67 


A Woman’s Revenge. 

brutally to offer her more money for her posses- 
sion than the Jew would have been able to give 
her in all his life. But now when he stood be- 
fore her he could not find words to tell her so; 
something in her bearing discouraged him. 

Could it be possible that this woman loved that 
Jew? — No, how could he imagine such a thing? 
But what on earth could have driven her into his 
arms? 

“Mr. Goldie,” she broke the silence, “why did 
you lead me to this place, and what can I do for 
you? Name the favor you were hinting at, and 
if it should be in my power, I will grant it. I 
always try to please my friends.” 

There was nobody near; the dance music only 
faintly reached their ears, so bending close to her 
he whispered: 

“It is in your power; you can make me the 
happiest of mortals. Winona, I love you, worship 
you; be mine! What can you see in that Jew? 
Leave him. I will carry you on my hands ; I will 
make you independent for life, I will ” 

“Stop, Mr. Goldie,” she interrupted, “don’t say 

68 


The Ruin of Mose Gans. 


anything more; it would be futile. Mose Gans 
will be my only lover; after him there will be no 
more lovers.” Rising, “Let ns return to the gam- 
ing table, Mr. Goldie; the ladies will miss you.” 

“Please stay; listen to me, I implore you.” 

All his entreaties were unheeded; she walked 
past him and he had to follow her. The game was 
at its height. Mose Gans had been losing heavily, 
and seeing him leave one of the tables, she took 
his place. And she played — played recklesslv, 
wildly. People had always wondered why she 
gambled. She seemed not to understand the 
game at all and would always lose, and lose im- 
mense sums. To-night again she lost hundreds, 
till her purse was empty. 

Turning to Mose Gans, she said: “Mose, give 
me your purse.” 

As he did no respond, she repeated her de- 
mand. Some gentleman sitting near her got in- 
terested and listened. She had to repeat her de- 
mand for the third time; then he looked at her, 
only to refuse. Hardly had he done so, when a 
dozen men offered her various sums of money; 
69 


A Woman’s Revenge. 

but she shook her head, thanked them, and left the 
gaming table without paying the slightest atten- 
tion to Mose Gans. He followed her like a 
whipped dog. After telling one of the negro 
servants to call her carriage, she walked to the 
vestibule. Mose covered her with her opera cloak, 
and they entered the carriage. 

Neither spoke. They drove home in silence, 
she staring before her into space, he fidgeting 
about and biting his mustache nervously. When 
they reached home and alighted from the carriage, 
she walked straight to her own apartment, he 
following her. Reaching her rooms she stopped, 
and looking contemptuously over her shoulder at 
him, she said: “What! you here! What do you 
want ?” 

“Winona, are you angry with me? forgive me; 
I could not give you any money, I had lost my all, 
myself.” 

“Mr. Goldie would have cashed your check.” 

“Had I written a check it would have been 
a felony, as I have no more money in the bank. 
Winona, I am ruined.” 


70 


The Ruin of Mose Gans. 


Her cloak had fallen from her shoulders; she 
stood before him in all her beauty, her bare arms 
folded. 

“So you are ruined !” Her voice sounded as 
cold as steel, her eyes looked cruelly into his dis- 
torted face. With a ring of triumph, “So you 
are ruined!” 

“Winona, I have lost everything for love of 
you; for your sake I returned to the Stock Ex- 
change, but everything has gone against me.” 

“Eor love of me! You call that love? Ha! 
ha! Mose Gans and love! Ha! ha! Perhaps 
you think it was love that made me tolerate you ? 
Love for you! Eevenge was what I wanted, and 
revenge I have got. As you robbed me years ago 
of that which I valued more than life, I in return 
have robbed you of everything you possessed, and 
now — you may go.” 

“Winona, I implore you, have pity on me; if 
you send me away, I cannot live without you. I 
will kill myself.” 

“Go ahead ; kill yourself. That will be the only 


7 \ 


A Woman’s Revenge. 


good action of your life; and now — leave me,” 
pointing to the door. 

Her words sounded so cold, so cruel, there 
seemed not the slightest hope of her relenting, 
and then and there he realized that his case was 
lost. 

For some seconds he stood still, watching like 
a cat ready for a spring; then a devilish thought 
struck him. He turned quickly, and tearing open 
the door of the sick man’s room he entered it. 
With a wild, terror-stricken cry she followed him, 
throwing herself between him and her husband. 

“There, cuckold,” he shouted, “look at your 
wife; look at those diamonds, look at that dress, 
all bought with my money. My money has paid for 
everything you see, my hands have caressed those 
shoulders, my lips have kissed that mouth; your 
wife is my mistress.” 

She rushed up to him, striking him repeatedly 
with her clenched hand in the face, screaming, 
“You coward, you contemptible coward!” and 
then with the strength of a lioness she dragged him 
out of the room. 


72 


The Murder. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

THE MURDER. 

Ralph's heart gave a fearful leap. 

“What did that man say ?” 

His money had bought everything here! His 
hands had caressed her shoulders! His lips had 
kissed her mouth! She was his mistress! 

“Impossible; it could not be true. It must be 
an infernal lie. Oh ! that scoundrel ! if he could 
only lay hands on him, he would strangle him — 
tear him to pieces.” 

He struggled desperately to rise ; he gnashed his 
teeth; the cold perspiration stood in big drops on 
his forehead. 

A scream — the fearful scream of a misused, de- 
fenceless woman — reached his ears. 

That coward must have been striking her — 
striking his wife — his poor, defenceless wife ! 
Great heavens! He tried to scream, and then, 
73 


A Woman’s Revenge. 


OK, God! a sound like a whistle escaped him; 
his body shook like an aspen leaf ; his teeth chat- 
tered wildly, as if he were freezing with cold ; then 
he felt his blood gradually flow back into his 
limbs; they seemed to be pricked by thousands of 
needles ; he tried to open and close his hands. 

He prayed to God to give him strength, just 
enough strength to punish that man; he would 
die willingly after that. 

His prayer was answered. 

Gradually he felt his powers come back to him, 
limb by limb. 

He rolled on to the floor, and lay there for some 
minutes trying to recover his breath; then he 
began to crawl on all fours into the next room; 
very slowly he advanced; it took him a long time, 
but he reached it at last. He looked about him; 
everything was quiet now. The moon shone 
through the half-drawn curtains, dimly lighting 
the room ; he crept along the soft carpet, trusting 
to instinct; then his hand touched something; it 
was a pair of scissors; he clutched them and con- 
tinued to crawl slowly along till he reached the 
74 


The Murder. 


bed. It was a magnificent brass bedstead. When 
he grasped the rail it seemed to nerve him; the 
cold metal soothed his burning hands. 

Slowly be pulled himself up; he stood erect, 
looking down at a female form clad in evening 
dress, lying on its face. 

It was his wife. 

He wanted to approach her, to touch her; he 
stopped short. “Did she not speak in her sleep ?” 
Surely he heard her speak; he listened breath- 
lessly; she seemed to whisper something; he could 
not make out what she said. 

“Louder, louder,” he imagined himself saying. 

She obeyed mechanically. She began to speak 
more distinctly, her breath going and coming in 
gasps. 

He bends nearer and nearer, not to lose a single 
word, not to lose a single whisper. 

“Ralph!” His own name! “Oh, Ralph, why 
has fate been so cruel to us? Why should I have 
met you and learned to love you, to worship you, 

and then Oh, God! I shudder to think of 

it.” 


75 


A Woman’s Revenge. 

Now she ceases to speak. His heart seems 
like bursting; his eyes are riveted on her mouth, 
lest any word should escape him. His presence 
seems to draw her towards him; she moves and 
turns, then she begins to talk again. 

“Don’t ask me, for pity’s sake, don’t ask me, I 
cannot tell you. I will not tell you. Oh, my 
poor heart, how it aches! Ralph, have mercy 
on me ! I must not tell you.” 

He hears himself hissing out, “Winona, you 
must tell me — tell me !” 

“Ralph, if it has to be — if you must know it — 
well then I am his mistress.” 

Those words strike him like a blow in the face. 
He staggers backward, then grasping the scissors 
more firmly, he creeps up to her, bends over her, 
and covering his eyes with his left hand, he 
plunges the scissors deep into her heart. 

One long-drawn sigh, then everything is as 
still as death. 

He dropped the scissors, and without removing 
his hand from his eyes he staggers back, support- 
ing himself against the wall with his other hand, 

76 


The Murder. 


back to his own room. He reaches his bed and 
throws himself upon it. His teeth chatter, he 
feels his body growing cold as ice, and he pulls 
the bedclothes over head and face ; he wants to cry 
out, and to smother it he stuffs the blanket into 
his mouth. There he lay, gradually getting more 
and more benumbed. His limbs again refuse to 
move, his heart beats fainter and fainter; soon all 
will be over. 

A thousand memories, a thousand pictures rush 
through his fevered brain. He seems to have for- 
gotten everything — everything except the days of 
his childhood; his mind dwells alone on those 
happy by-gone days. And then he feels his life’s 
blood ebbing away, his heartbeat growing more 
irregular, then seeming to stop, then speeding on 
again. Now the hand of death is upon him — he 
cannot breathe — it seems as if a millstone lay 
upon his heart. 

“ Winona! Oh, Winona P 

When the beams of the morning sun crept into 
the silent room, — they lingered on the calm and 
placid features of a corpse. 

77 


Loti 


A Woman’s Revenge. 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE TRIAL. 

“TERRIBLE TRAGEDY ON NOB 
HILL! HORRIBLE MURDER OF A BEAU- 
TIFUL WOMAN! WHO COMMITTED 
THE CRIME f 

“Early this morning a reporter of the X 
Bays , was passing California Street, when a 
servant-woman came rushing out of a house, 
screaming, ‘Murder! Murder!* at the top of her 
voice. In a few seconds a mob had gathered, press- 
ing around the woman, eager to find out all she 
knew. 

“Led by the woman, our reporter entered the 
house, followed by the crowd, and there in a 
magnificently furnished bedroom he found the 
body of a beautiful woman, clad in a gorgeous 
red silk gown and covered with diamonds, lying 
78 


The Trial. 


on her back, the bedclothes steeped in blood which 
had flowed from a ghastly wound in her breast. 

“Our reporter, who had done such valuable 
service on former occasions, at once plunged into 
detective work. 

“On entering the adjoining room they came 
upon the corpse of a man lying on the bed. Could 
he have done the deed and then committed suicide ? 
No; impossible! 

“The man was Ralph Carlton, the woman’s 
husband, who had been a helpless paralytic for 
the last two years ; evidently he had been smothered 
in his bed. 

“Who, then, could the black villain be? There 
had been another man living in the house, one 
Mose Gans. The rumors went that he had been 
that woman’s lover. His bedroom had been un- 
occupied, his bed untouched. People had seen him 
leaving the house early in the morning. It must 
be that man. 

“On Mose Gans rests a terrible suspicion. 
Where is he? Has he fled? 


79 


A Woman’s Revenge. 


“The police and our special reporter are fever- 
ishly working to solve this mystery.” 

So much for the X Rays. 

Late that night two detectives arrested Mose 
Gans over in Oakland; they had found him in 
a hotel, very much the worse for liquor. 

When they laid hands on him, he had stared 
stupidly at them, murmuring only : “I am ruined ! 
What do you want?” 

They led him to the city jail and charged him 
with murder. And so poor Mose Gans became a 
criminal hero. 

A criminal trial frequently assumes the ap- 
pearance of a trial of strength between the oppos- 
ing lawyers, rather than a calm discussion that 
shall deal out justice. The moral effect is bad, 
because a hardened criminal begins to look upon 
a successful lawyer as his best friend — as a man 
who can, and will for a consideration, stand be- 
tween him and punishment. The prosecuting 
attorney, on the other hand, is feared as much 
almost by the innocent as the guilty; he is re- 
80 


The Trial. 


garded as deliberately taking , advantage of every 
possible snbterfnge to get a conviction. 

No doubt the prosecutor is bound by his oath 
to consider equally the interests of the prisoner 
and those of society; but that he does not always 
do so calmly and judicially is too often self evi- 
dent. The contest of legal ingenuity becomes 
exciting, and the guilt or innocence of the accused 
appears to be only a secondary consideration. 

The lawyers on both sides battle for reputation. 
If lawyers would honestly undertake not to de- 
fraud justice by screening the guilty; if judge 
and jury would sift the evidence in a criminal 
case as calmly as any other subject, realizing their 
fearful responsibility, and taking it as a supreme 
duty, then crime would have a new check, and 
respect for the law would increase. 

And take the daily newspapers. Don't they 
condemn, hang a man, before even a warrant for 
his arrest is out? 

Is that fair? 

All the time that Mose Gans’ trial was going 
on, you could not pick up a newspaper in the city 

Zi 


A Woman’s Revenge. 

without seeing either his fierce countenance de- 
picted there, or whole columns of print retailing 
all his sayings and doings, and speculating as to 
his innocence or guilt. That he had slept well; 
that he had eaten poached or scrambled eggs for 
breakfast; that he had dressed with care, to re- 
ceive in style the many fair belles who came to 
visit him and present him with flowers. 

The first day of the Mose Gans’ murder trial 
had arrived. 

An extraordinary, fashionable audience awaited 
the commencement of proceedings. Three parts 
of the audience belonged to the gentler sex; they 
had been sitting there for hours. Many had 
brought a lunch basket along with them, patiently 
awaiting the great moment when they would lead 
into the court-room that terrible Jew. 

Poor, innocent Mose! Since his arrest months 
ago, his head had been swimming. He had con- 
stantly tried to explain things, declared under 
oath, cursed, given his word of honor, but all to no 
purpose. People seemed to have grown stupid — 
idiotic, He commit a bloody murder? What 
82 


The Trial. 


absurdity! He, who would not even touch a 
loaded revolver if he could help it. But the jury 
surely would not believe all those lies invented 
by the prosecuting attorney! All that circum- 
stantial evidence was pure rot. And so he had 
worn quite a smiling and confident expression 
throughout the whole trial, hoping that there 
would soon be an end to this farce. 

The judge had summoned up all the evidence 
and addressed the jury, after which they retired. 

Now they return; it had taken them only half 
an hour to decide. 

Complete silence reigns. You could hear a 
pin drop, and then 

“Guilty of murder in the first degree.” 

A murmur of mixed emotions, relief or surprise, 
pity or satisfaction, runs through the vast crowd. 

THE SENTENCE. 

“Mose Gans, you have been found by a jury 
of your countrymen guilty of murder in the first 

S3 


A Woman’s Revenge. 


’degree. The sentence of the court is that yon shall 
be taken to Saint Quentin’s, and there, on the 
morning of the fifteenth day of May, at seven 
o’clock, you shall be hanged by the neck till you 
are dead. 

“And may the Lord have mercy on your soul.” 


24 


The Execution. 


CHAPTER X. 

t 

£ 

THE EXECUTION. 

Since the day of his condemnation, Mose Gans 
had been entirely stupefied. The verdict had al- 
most robbed him of his mental faculties. 

All day long he would sit staring in front of 
him, muttering incoherent sentences; “I am 
ruined” — “Guilty of murder in the first degree” — 
“Hanged by the neck” — “Lord have mercy on your 
soul.” 

For days he would hardly touch his food. At 
other times he would devour it ravenously, ask- 
ing, begging for more. 

At times he would imagine himself on the Stock 
Exchange, shouting out the names and prices of 
stocks. Then again he would shrink into a corner 
of his cell, and there whine, “Winona, don’t send 
me away, don’t. Oh, don’t!” At other times 
he would jump up, and with foam on his lips, 
85 


A Woman’s Revenge. 

shriek out, “Fools! Imbeciles! Scoundrels! I 
tell you I am innocent.” 

He would rave about his cell, shaking the iron 
bars and striking them with his fist, his frantic 
cries resounding through the corridors, till he 
would collapse and drop on to his bench from 
sheer exhaustion, the tears running down his 
cheeks, murmuring, “Have pity on me! Have 
pity on me ! I am innocent !” 

The morning of the execution has arrived. 
Soon they will lead him to the gallows. 

A rabbi has come to assist him in his dying 
hour. 

Mose will not listen to him. He orders him 
away with curses and blasphemy, but the rabbi 
remains near him to the bitter end, praying to 
Jehovah to forgive the poor, stubborn, unrepent- 
ant sinner. 

How he hears them come to lead him to the 
gallows. 

He retires to the furthest corner of his cell, 
staring gloomily at the men as they enter. 

86 


The Execution. 


When they approach him, he screams out: 
“Don’t touch me, you cowards! How dare you 
come and murder me ? A thousand curses on your 
heads, you infernal butchers !” 

When they lay hands on him, he beats them 
off, struggling violently, biting, scratching, spit- ^ 
ting. 

Finally they conquer him. He is exhausted, 
he can hardly stand up any longer. He breaks 
down, sinks on his knees. His whole body is 
shaken by convulsive sobs, and he whines: “Oh, 
God! I am innocent — innocent — have mercy on 
me!” 

Supported by the rabbi he staggers to the 
scaffold, where he is launched into eternity. 


FINIS. 


87 




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» 




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poetry; together with an introduction. By Madi- 
son C. Peters. Author of “ Justice to the Jew,” 
etc. 

GREATEST THING IN THE WORLD, THE. 

By Henry Drummond. 

HAUNTS OF KIPLING. 

Fully illustrated. A complete history and de- 
scription of all the localities described by Rud- 
yard Kipling in his works. By Margherita 
Arlina Hamm and Charles F. RideaL 

HOUSE OF A TRAITOR, THE. 

By Prosper Merimee. 

7 


HOW AND WHAT TO WRITE. 

A book for authors ; with some practical hints on 
Journalism; together with a chapter on illus- 
trating for the press. By Charles F. Rideal, Fel- 
low of the Royal Society of Literature. 

HOW SUCCESS IS WON; 

or, the Fight in Life. With Celebrated Illustra- 
tions. Drawn from Life by Carlos Martyn. In 
this book the author has produced a number of 
stirring illustrations written in a style and man- 
ner that command the attention of both the 
young and old. It is an essential book for every- 
body. 

INTELLECTUAL PEOPLE. 

By William Adolphus Clark. Since most readers 
belong to this class, all such will find their linea- 
ments reflected in these pages “as in a looking- 
glass.” Many surprises await those who gaze 
herein; whether of mortification or of gratifica- 
tion, we must read to see. Cloth, Fifty Cents. 
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INTERNATIONAL DIRECTORY OF AUTHORS, THE. 

With a full list of the titles of their works, dates 
of publication, etc. Compiled and edited by 
Charles F. Rideal. 

LAST OF THE MUSKETEERS. 

A Novel founded on the Romantic Career of 
General de Gallifet, French Minister of War. By 
Carlos Martyn. 

LITERARY LIFE. 

The most popular magazine for authors, publish- 
ers, booksellers and every one interested in liter- 
ature, issued. It is a thoroughly impartial journal, 
readable from cover to cover, Five cents per 
copy or fifty cents per annum, mailed free. 

LITTLE SCARECROW, THE. 

By Maurus Jokai. . ' 


9 


LODGING IN THE NIGHT, A. 

By Robert Louis Stevenson. This is the first 
time that this celebrated story has been produced 
in a manner worthy of the reputation of its 
talented author. It will be fully illustrated and 
issued in a most dainty binding, forming a dainty 
and unique gift book. 

LOVE AND PRIDE. 

By R. R. Napoliello. This novel admirably por- 
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inspection, so that we see and participate^ the 
struggle. A rare psychological study. Cloth, 
Fifty Cents. Japanese paper, Twenty-five Cents. 

LOVE’S RANDOM SHOT. 

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MAGISTRACY, THE. 

Being a Directory and Biographical Dictionary 
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MASTER AND MAN. 

By Count Tolstoy. 

MORE PEOPLE WE MEET. 

By Charles F. Rideal. Illustrated by Mark Zang- 
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NURSES WE MEET. 

Some piquant Pictures. By Charles F. Rideal. 
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One Dollar. 

OLD SCHOOL DAYS. 

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wide reading. It is healthy and breezy with 
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Cloth. One Dollar. 


10 


ON THE CHARLESTON. 

By Irene Widdemer Hartt. The smell of th© sea 
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PAIR OF KNAVES AND A FEW TRUMPS, A. 

By M. Douglas Flattery. The literary quality 
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the book presents a combination of attractions 
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PEOPLE AND PROPERTY. 

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PEOPLE WE MEET. 

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“ A collection of characteristic sketches drawn 
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Scotsman. 

PICTURES FROM A NEW YORK BOARDING 
HOUSE. 

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PULPIT ELOQUENCE. 

Characteristic Types, with Brief Prefatory 
Sketches of Illustrious Preachers. By Carlos 
Martyn. 

12 


POCKET ISLAND. 

By Charles Clark Munn. A story of country life 
in New England. A remarkably attractive book 
written in a remarkably attractive manner. W ith 
frontispiece. Cloth, 12mo, 200 pages. One 
Dollar. 

QUAKER SCOUT, A. 

By N. P. Runyan. The contradictory title 
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upon investigation, will be abundantly rewarded. 
Incidents without number succeed one another 
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reader hold his breath and pant in sympathy 
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RIDEAL’S ELOCUTIONIST. 

A Book of Readings and Recitations for the 
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Royal Society of Literature, and formerly a 
member of the Council of the Lecturers’ Institute 
of Great Britain. 

SERMONIC SILHOUETTES. 

Three Hundred Outlines of Sermons by Three 
Hundred Distinguished Clergymen on Various 
Themes. With index. By Carlos Martyn. 

SLAYEHOLDER’S DAUGHTER, A. 

Full of Southern life and character, and readable 
from cover to cover. By Belle Kearney. With 
11 full-page illustrations and frontispiece. Cloth, 
12mo, 270 pages. One Dollar. 

SOCIAL SINNERS. 

A realistic novel of to-day. By Emile A. Palier. 
Portrays a number of Sinners and a few Saints 
in the modern social order. Certain passages 
hold the reader spellbound. There are several 
heroes and heroines, all true to life after their 
respective kind. Cloth, 12mo. One Dollar. 

13 


TEMPER CURE, THE. 

By Stanley Edwards Johnson. In the guise of a 
novel, the author gives a fanciful account of a 
cure for bad temper. There are no dull pages in 
this book. Cloth, Fifty Cents. Japanese paper. 
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TEN YEARS IN COSSACK SLAYERY. 

By Mary De. Mankowski. This is a graphic, 
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loving his country “not wisely but too well.” 
The book explains the existing hatred of the 
Russian government and gives the reasons there- 
fore. Cloth. $1.25 

YENGEANCE OF THE MOB, THE. 

By Sam A. Hamilton. An exciting story of 
Florida, in which the characteristics and the 
effects of “Judge Lynch’s” rule are exploited. 
A thrilling love story runs through the novel, 
with which the vengeance of the mob comes into 
collision. Cloth, 12mo. One Dollar. 

WELLERISMS 

from “Pickwick” and “Master Humphrey’s 
Clock.” Selected by Charles F. Rideal and edited 
with an introduction by Charles Kent, Author of 
“The Humor and Pathos of Charles Dickens.” 
Fourth Edition. With a new and original draw- 
ing, by George Cruikshank, Jr., of Mr. Samuel 
Weller. Cloth. One Dollar. 

This book has met with remarkable success. The 
original drawing of Sam Weller, by George 
Cruikshank, Jr. (a nephew of the original Cruik- 
shank), is alone worth the money, for the reason 
that it shows a mastery of fine work and detail, 
in pen and ink not possessed by any other artist 
of the time. It is a unique and acceptable addi- 
tion to Dickensiana and every lover and admirer 
of Charles Dickens should possess a copy. 

U 







DEC 7 1800 


library of congress 


